


Oil Can Grin

by DefaltManifesto



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Painplay, Riding, Rough Sex, Scratching, Spoilers, they're 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 15:04:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11404887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: They’ve kissed. Soft, delicate things with gentle fingers grazing over a jaw, a neck, a hip. Betty likes those. There’s something indulgent about it, softening up and letting someone so close without having a hard wall behind it all ready to spring to her defense at the soonest sign of betrayal.In that way, she and Jughead are a lot alike. He wears his defense on his sleeve. Hers lurks, capable of camouflage to survive with an emotionally wise but abusive mother. FP was no saint, but he was like a bludgeon where Alice was a knife gliding between the ribs so smoothly it didn’t even hurt.





	Oil Can Grin

**Author's Note:**

> "Schizzar, you right het!porn?"
> 
> On occasion. Sometimes the straights are compelling enough to write for ten minutes. 
> 
> Also, Cole Sprouse is a terrible human being but Jughead Jones is great. 
> 
> No beta.
> 
> Title from Home by Breaking Benjamin

 

They’ve kissed. Soft, delicate things with gentle fingers grazing over a jaw, a neck, a hip. Betty likes those. There’s something indulgent about it, softening up and letting someone so close without having a hard wall behind it all ready to spring to her defense at the soonest sign of betrayal. In that way, she and Jughead are a lot alike. He wears his defense on his sleeve. Hers lurks, capable of camouflage to survive with an emotionally wise but abusive mother. FP was no saint, but he was like a bludgeon where Alice was a knife gliding between the ribs so smoothly it didn’t even hurt.

When Jughead shoves her against the cabinet, hard enough for pain to shoot from her head down her spine, it’s like nothing they’ve had before. Betty can defend herself against all sorts of subtle and painful manipulation, but when someone lays their desires out so plainly before her, she’s weak and this is no different. It’s almost worst because her desires match his, more than she wants to admit. His fingers bite into her jaw, shoving her back into the cabinet and making her shake and the moan that’s building in her chest is abruptly cut at the pounding at the front door.

She watches through the crack in the door as Jughead converses with the Serpents. She’s written sympathetically about them of course, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know they aren’t good people. Fuck, they had people like Mustang in their midst. She knows what her reaction is supposed to be when Jughead accepts the leathers. She knows she’s supposed to resist, take it a sign that a wedge is being driven between them again but maybe it’s the high of what they’d just done but all it does is make her stomach clench and her breath come faster.

He turns back and she can tell from his eyes that he’s expecting a fight. She crosses the space between them and shoves him against the door as hard as he had earlier and presses their lips together. It’s his turn to moan, her turn to dig her fingers into his jaw and force his head where she wants it so she can deepen the kiss and work out all the energy flowing through her like a flood.

When she was younger, she’d always imagined her first time like something out of a terrible romance movie; missionary style with rose petals and fire light and soft gentleness. She’s glad it’s nothing like that. Instead, she has Jughead on the ground, straddling his hips as she rocks down on his cock with her nails carving small crescents into his pecs. His new leathers are off to the side and every time she catches sight of them, she can’t help how she tightens around him.

His hands leave bruises in her hips and under her breasts along her ribs. She can feel the dull bite of his nails here and there and it just makes her move more, sinking down and rolling her hips just to feel the way he grips her harder. One of his hands slides up, cupping her breast and then pinching a nipple between his fingers. The noise that leaves her is high-pitched, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp and he takes it as encouragement, digging a nail into the tender flesh and just like that she comes, thighs shaking and skin jumping. Her knees clench his body hard as her nails rake marks down his chest and over the sensitive skin of his stomach.

Jughead returns his hands to her hips, holding her still as she rides out her orgasm. She stretches her fingers out. They ache and crack as she braces herself against his chest and starts to rock against him once more as she catches her breath. Every inch of her feels tense. The orgasm did nothing to relax her, instead just winding her even tighter and making her even more desperate. Jughead seems more than willing to let her keep going and chase what she needs. She’s surprised he’s lasted so long. She knows he’s a virgin just as much as she is, but perhaps that didn’t mean anything when they were so driven by instinct.

By the time she comes again, his chest wears her marks and she can feel slick under her nails and that thought should scare her, but there’s nothing but dark lust in Jughead’s eyes. She moves down to kiss him and he flips them. He guides one of her legs up so he can get deeper as he steals her breath with a kiss. The rug makes her back ache as he fucks into her but it does nothing but make it even better, make her shiver and shake.

He comes within a minute of changing their positions, going limp on top of her. They lay there, panting with their limbs loosely entwined as the sweat cools on their skin. Jughead collects himself first. He pulls out of her and she winces, a hand sliding down to rub at the now achingly empty space as he ties off the condom and tosses it in the trash bin.

“Shit, you okay?” Jughead asks, concern marring his face as he helps her up.

“Yeah, yeah, just…” She smiles and kisses him. “We might have been a little too…enthusiastic?”

He smiles back, relieved, then winces when her hands graze the marks she left.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she says, startling back.

“I don’t mind,” he says as he reaches out to pull her back to him. “I liked it.”

“We should shower,” she says with a frown. “Those need to be washed.”

They shower together and it’s comforting as the adrenaline washes away to have his hands on her, gentle on the bruises. She cleans the cuts she left behind and they kiss until the warm water runs out. After, Jughead leaves for the bedroom and she goes to collect their clothes. She has everything crumpled in her arms when she reaches for the Serpents’ leathers. She kneels on the rug and sets the pile of clothes aside in favor of picking up the smooth jacket, fingers trailing over the stitched patch. So intent on her study, she doesn’t hear Jughead enter the room, chest bare with flannel pajama pants slung low on his hips.

“I don’t have to take it,” he says.

She looks back at him, jacket clutched in her hands. “I can’t make that choice for you. I shouldn’t. It’s your life Jughead. I…” She glances back down on it. “This won’t stop me from loving you.”

“No?” He sits down next to her. “You’d still love me if I ran drugs and made friends with criminals?”

 She searches for the right words, not wanting to cause offense but not wanting to hide either. “When you put this on, it was like seeing what you could become, what you could do. It’s not about being a criminal. You and I both know it’s not that black and white. And before you get mad, I don’t mean that you can only be a criminal, I just mean you’re meant for more than average. Being protected like this? That’s…something. And you’re smarter than anyone there.”

“I’m sixteen,” Jughead says.

She flushes. “I’m not saying you have to. Just that if you do…I know you could do something great. You will with or without the Serpents and I’m not walking away from you either way.”

“I’m not them,” Jughead says, but even as he says it he takes the jacket from her and folds it carefully. “I’m not a killer or a drug pusher.”

“No,” she says. She reaches out and rubs a thumb along his jaw. “You’re too good for that. And I’m too bad to be what I once was. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make something up for ourselves, something in the middle.”

He sets the jacket on the couch and pulls her into a kiss, deep but quick. “I love you.”

She kisses him in answer.


End file.
